you want, Xavier?”
“I told you. I want to talk to you. I want to connect with you again, even for one moment.”
She didn’t get it. She didn’t get him . There was something guarded about the way Xavier carried himself, like he didn’t trust the world—and perhaps, she thought, he really didn’t. And yet here he was, begging to have an honest conversation with her. Alyssa just couldn’t figure him out, and it unnerved her to no end.
“I spent years trying to forget about ever connecting with you,” she said. “What makes you think I would want to throw all that hard work out the window now?”
She saw him flinch at her harsh words, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. He was the one who wanted honesty after all.
“Why do you hate me so much?” he asked quietly.
He looked sad, but Alyssa couldn’t bring herself to care about that either.
“I don’t hate you,” she admitted. Things would be so much easier if I did. She took a deep breath. “Look, it’s been a long day. I’m exhausted. I can’t do this right now.”
“Can you do it tomorrow?”
Alyssa blinked. “What?”
“One breakfast. Like old times.” He offered her a grin. “I’ll bring the coffee.”
“I have coffee,” Alyssa said absently. She was staring at him almost transfixed. Because there he was, the Xavier she had known; he had the same shy, sexy grin. Complete with dimples.
“Then, I’ll bring the bagels.”
Alyssa rolled her eyes, and that’s when they both knew he had worn her down.
“Fine,” she finally conceded. “Come over in the morning. But you won’t stay more than one hour.” I couldn’t take it.
Xavier nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her on her cheek. Alyssa was so shocked she didn’t even protest. She watched as he climbed on his motorcycle and drove away. She watched as the Devil’s Fighters’ red Satan looked out at her from Xavier’s leather-clad black, mocking her.
*****
Alyssa didn’t know what had possessed her. She awoke the next day hoping it had all been just a bizarre dream, but stepping out of her bedroom quickly proved that it was very, very real.
The house was empty, as demonstrated by the all-too silent rooms that she passed on her way downstairs. Her parents were gone, as demonstrated by the insane amount of casseroles that littered the kitchen. Xavier was coming over for breakfast, as demonstrated by the text she found waiting on her cell phone when she checked it.
“I’m going to hold you to that breakfast. 8 a.m. sharp. X.”
Alyssa groaned. That text made her uneasy for a number of reasons. First, Xavier had never signed himself “X.” in his life, and she thought it was incredibly lame. Second, she had no idea how on Earth he had gotten her number. Third, Xavier was coming over for breakfast.
She glanced at the clock on the kitchen’s wall and was relieved to find that it was only 7:15 a.m. That gave her forty-five minutes to prepare.
Thirty minutes later, and with only another fifteen minutes to go, Alyssa was anything but ready. She had showered, and she had the first cup of coffee of the day. She even had an apple to boost her energy. Nothing worked. Nothing cleared her mind enough to prepare her for what she was going to say to him.
What was she going to say to him? How would this work? Could they really just sit down at the kitchen’s table and pick up where they left off?
Alyssa didn’t think so. She was pretty certain Xavier didn’t think so, either; he may have changed, but he sure had not turned into an idiot. He must know that her agreeing to have breakfast together—again, why did she have to go and do that?—didn’t change anything. He must know that she was still furious. He must know that her heart was still broken.
The roar of a motorcycle’s engine approaching took her away from her reverie.
“I told you. I want to talk to you. I want to connect with you again, even for one moment.”
She didn’t get it. She didn’t get him . There was something guarded about the way Xavier carried himself, like he didn’t trust the world—and perhaps, she thought, he really didn’t. And yet here he was, begging to have an honest conversation with her. Alyssa just couldn’t figure him out, and it unnerved her to no end.
“I spent years trying to forget about ever connecting with you,” she said. “What makes you think I would want to throw all that hard work out the window now?”
She saw him flinch at her harsh words, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. He was the one who wanted honesty after all.
“Why do you hate me so much?” he asked quietly.
He looked sad, but Alyssa couldn’t bring herself to care about that either.
“I don’t hate you,” she admitted. Things would be so much easier if I did. She took a deep breath. “Look, it’s been a long day. I’m exhausted. I can’t do this right now.”
“Can you do it tomorrow?”
Alyssa blinked. “What?”
“One breakfast. Like old times.” He offered her a grin. “I’ll bring the coffee.”
“I have coffee,” Alyssa said absently. She was staring at him almost transfixed. Because there he was, the Xavier she had known; he had the same shy, sexy grin. Complete with dimples.
“Then, I’ll bring the bagels.”
Alyssa rolled her eyes, and that’s when they both knew he had worn her down.
“Fine,” she finally conceded. “Come over in the morning. But you won’t stay more than one hour.” I couldn’t take it.
Xavier nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her on her cheek. Alyssa was so shocked she didn’t even protest. She watched as he climbed on his motorcycle and drove away. She watched as the Devil’s Fighters’ red Satan looked out at her from Xavier’s leather-clad black, mocking her.
*****
Alyssa didn’t know what had possessed her. She awoke the next day hoping it had all been just a bizarre dream, but stepping out of her bedroom quickly proved that it was very, very real.
The house was empty, as demonstrated by the all-too silent rooms that she passed on her way downstairs. Her parents were gone, as demonstrated by the insane amount of casseroles that littered the kitchen. Xavier was coming over for breakfast, as demonstrated by the text she found waiting on her cell phone when she checked it.
“I’m going to hold you to that breakfast. 8 a.m. sharp. X.”
Alyssa groaned. That text made her uneasy for a number of reasons. First, Xavier had never signed himself “X.” in his life, and she thought it was incredibly lame. Second, she had no idea how on Earth he had gotten her number. Third, Xavier was coming over for breakfast.
She glanced at the clock on the kitchen’s wall and was relieved to find that it was only 7:15 a.m. That gave her forty-five minutes to prepare.
Thirty minutes later, and with only another fifteen minutes to go, Alyssa was anything but ready. She had showered, and she had the first cup of coffee of the day. She even had an apple to boost her energy. Nothing worked. Nothing cleared her mind enough to prepare her for what she was going to say to him.
What was she going to say to him? How would this work? Could they really just sit down at the kitchen’s table and pick up where they left off?
Alyssa didn’t think so. She was pretty certain Xavier didn’t think so, either; he may have changed, but he sure had not turned into an idiot. He must know that her agreeing to have breakfast together—again, why did she have to go and do that?—didn’t change anything. He must know that she was still furious. He must know that her heart was still broken.
The roar of a motorcycle’s engine approaching took her away from her reverie.
Similar Books
